The Journal Of Draco M. (Vol. II, HP Journals)
by Laine The Great
Summary: The Draco Malfoy no one really knows. Draco/Ginny in further chapters. (It has a seperate plotline than the rest of the HP Journals series...Ginny's parents aren't dead.)
1. "Life is like a book."

(Disclaimer: I don't got nothin' on J.K. Rowling...)  
  
...Life is a book.  
You seperate the good from the bad, and go on your way.  
You never think twice about the people you deemed bad, they're just there.  
The every day enemy.  
The little annoyance at the back of your head.  
A chance to mouth off at someone, to feel like your doing something to benefit the world.  
That's all they are to you.  
You call them by their last names, get on with life, hanging with the people who hate them as well.  
Once I came to Hogwarts, I knew.  
Knew that I would be overshadowed by my father's meanness.   
Knew that no one would like me for anything except my money, my power, my place in the world.  
All my so-called "Friends" hang with me because they're tied to the Dark Lord aswell.  
They'll never know the real me.  
I'm never able to rant, to just let go of that image entirely.  
I've never been able to say  
"Hello. My name is Draco. Want to do something sometime?"  
Without a drawl to my voice. That's not my real voice.  
I just use it to make people think I'm mean, I'm tough, and I get either respected or repremanded for it.  
I really wish I could be nice to Harry Potter and his little posse.  
They sound like a nice, cheery lot. Full of laughter, adventure, and niceness.  
And then there's that Weasley girl..  
...I shudder when I think of her.  
She's so beautiful, so perfect, so innocent, so nice, so unnoticed.  
Am I in love with her, like those stupid muggle books filled with angsty fluff.  
I am in love with the enemy.  
Enticed by her red hair...  
To lean in, smell it, gently tickling that pale neck that peeks out from that hand-made blue jumper..  
I've always wondered what it smelled like..  
Like roses?   
Like vanilla?  
Her eyes were like the sea, calming down after a storm...  
..There's this void in my heart whenever I see her.  
A void that could easily be filled.  
Emerald.  
Scarlet.  
Gold.  
Silver.  
Could they ever go together? 


	2. "I want something better than me for her...

(Disclaimer: I still got nothin' on Miss Rowling...but, yeah, the pairing was mine. Whoo.)  
  
I searched the room for a flash of redhair.  
It wasn't there.  
I heard a sigh from somewhere.  
It didn't occur to me that it had come from myself.  
Well, it did when Pansy Parkinson spun on her heal, and looked at me.  
Let me justify the scene: I was walking with Parkinson and all the Slytherin girls.  
All admired me.  
I know that for a fact, even though they don't think I do.  
I'm not calling myself a god, or anything.  
But girls flock to me.  
Lucius, oh, my great father Lucius, (For your goddamn information, that was sarcasm) says it's the good old Malfoy charm.  
Why doesn't it work on the Little Weasley, then?  
She looks past me, and I look past her.  
That's the way it works.  
That's the way it has to be.  
But, I can't help but ask myself, if Ginny were to look at me properly, what would she see?  
She'd see the pale-haired little git I am made out to be...  
...Or would she?  
If Lucius were here, he'd say that it's not proper to question the way things have been.  
But with one word, with one scentance, I can make myself seem good.  
I'm afraid, though.  
What Lucius would do if he ever found out...  
I shuddered.  
Parkinson looked at me again.  
"Are you allright, Draco?"  
"Yes, fine, Pansy."  
I smile.  
I bet she can tell it's fake.  
I know she can, for a fact.  
It's strange; all of the Slytherins are really...  
...Nice.  
I'm not sure about all Slytherins, but a few of us are okay.  
When we let it show.  
I know Pansy is.  
I heard her sobbing in her room the other night.  
I've seen the way she looks at George Weasley.  
How her heart brakes when he goes off with some other girls...  
...But she has to put up that mean front, because she knows he'll never like her.  
She doesn't really look like a pug, she used to be really nice looking.  
I knew her when she was five, she was a carefree little innocent, no idea about Voldemort, any of this bad bussiness.  
But that's beside the point.  
Back to reality.  
Back to the same old, same old.  
Stupid.  
-----------------------------------------------------  
Ginny glanced sideways at Malfoy. He was being flocked around by those Slytherin girls, in black and dark green. The only reason  
she saw this 'unpleasantness' is because Harry was beyond Malfoy. But, surprisingly, she caught Malfoy glancing at her.  
Her eyes widened.  
The look on his face was one of such sadness, such wanting, and then there was something that she couldn't catch. She wanted to look away.   
But she couldn't.  
She watched his own pale eyes widen in surprise, such surprise she'd have thought that a thousand firecrabs had just charged him  
down unexpectantly. She searched for Harry once again. She pretended not to notice Malfoy, who was looking at her openly now.  
"He's just trying to think of some sort of insult to hurl at me." So, she looked away.  
But she couldn't get over that look...that look of such unselfish love..  
She didn't think she ever would.  
******************************************************  
She looked at me.  
She really looked.  
With those eyes, full of love.  
But then, I realise, she was looking for Potter.  
I look back to see if Potter returned her aimer glance.  
He was too busy looking, hell, gaping at Cho Chang.  
There was a girl, right there, that loved him so plainly.  
So openly.  
I didn't want Potter to have happiness, but I wanted The Littlest Weasley to be happy, at the very least.  
Even if it's not me.  
Because she means the world to me.  
And I don't want her to get mixed up with a man like me.  
I don't want her to be connected at all with the Dark Order.  
I want her to go on, with the happiness, with the laughter that'll never cease.  
I want something better than me for her. 


	3. "A day of freedom."

(Disclaimer: I dun got nothin' on J.K. Rowling...)  
  
My father's doing it to my mother again.  
I can tell.  
I can hear the screams, the shouts.  
They don't think I can, though, all the way over here at School.  
But I can.  
Tears stained the last letter from my mother; the handwriting was shaky.  
He's beating her up again.  
We're going to excape.  
To run away.  
If my mother finds some way to tell someone, anyone.  
We'll be safe for the rest of our days.  
My father gets drunk, gets crazy.  
It's not fair, the hand I was dealt.  
I could've been someone else, anyone else.  
But I'm a Malfoy.  
The Dragon Of Bad Faith.  
I put my head in my hands.  
I think I'm crying.  
I feel the drops on my face, but it doesn't seem to register as fimiliar.  
Strange.  
So strange.  
"Draco?" I heard.  
My head swirled, and so did I.  
"Ginny?!...Little Weasley! Bugger off!" I recovered myself quickly.  
"Why are you crying?"  
"I'm not crying! MALFOYS DON'T CRY!"  
She cowered at my yell, as if I had smarted her.  
It hurt, something twanged.  
Like a register.  
"Draco. I was just concerned about you. Sorry."  
She turned to go.  
"Wait!"  
That was all it took.  
She came up to me, and kissed me.  
A real kiss.  
I felt myself melt.  
It was a haven, like there was nothing wrong in the world.  
For that moment, time stood still.  
For that moment, I was free.  
Like someone had given me some wings, a pass to everywhere.  
She broke away.  
I wish she hadn't.  
"Now, why are you crying? Even though Malfoys don't cry.."  
I burst out.  
I told her everything.  
A new day was dawning.  
A day of freedom. 


End file.
